


The Druid and the Cleric

by Rosesss1092



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (thats his middle name btw), Cleric!Andrew - Freeform, Druid!Garrett - Freeform, M/M, and he's really stupid and gay, as usual, garrett is named sageun, uh so the boys are fantasy boys now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-01 14:03:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17868650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosesss1092/pseuds/Rosesss1092
Summary: Andrew, a timid cleric, is met with Sageun, a friendly druid, in a time of need.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hmmwatt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hmmwatt/gifts).



> ok so this is inspired by an amazing piece of art by @hmmwatt bc i love gandrew nd i love dnd skdbdkdnd ((i might just write more of this.....this was actually kinda fun to write, as shitty as it is!!))

The sun filtered through the autumnal foliage of the deep forest, shining upon the blade of Andrew Siwicki and the group of goblins which lay at his feet.

Panting heavily, he collapsed to his knees, sending a wave of pain through his legs as the adrenaline of the battle began to wear off. He cursed silently as he beheld his wounds: a barrage of scars across his legs, magically induced burns scattered across his chest and back, and a gash running from his right shoulder to his elbow. _All this from some stupid goblins?_ He thought disparagingly, sheathing his short sword. He winced as the pain from the gash burned through him. _I knew I shouldn't have come into this godforsaken forest alone._

He sighed and reached for the pouch at his back, trying his hardest to not disturb his injured arm. As hard as he tried, though, even the smallest movements sent great jolts of pain through his chest. Finally swerving his pouch off from across his shoulder and undoing the drawstrings, Andrew sifted through various items until he pulled out a wad of bandages. These bandages were exceptionally light in his hand, their heavenly sigils of the goddess Mishakal bringing an air of calm about him. _I can't afford to cast any more spells_ , he thought as he began wrapping his arm, _not until I reach Phandalin._ As soon as the bandages made contact with the gash, the pain began to seep out like venom.

Just as Andrew finished wrapping his arm, the bandages letting off a slight glow as he tore away the wad, a quiet voice spoke from behind him.

"Hey, you look hurt. Do you need help?"

In an instant, Andrew was up on his feet and facing the voice, ready to cut them down without hesitation... Or so he thought, before the rest of his wounds caught up with him. It took every ounce of his willpower to not collapse back down into a bloodied mess in front of the tall, cloaked figure that stood before him.

Pale blue eyes fluttered in surprise behind a pair of thin spectacles, and the figure took a step back. His long legs put him at a couple of yards away from the wary cleric, just enough for the both of them to get a proper look at each other.

Andrew stood crookedly, his burns and bruises painting an unpleasant palette across his presence. One arm lay limp at his side under a bloodied blue cloak, the other arm shakily poised to attack. Looking to his face, the figure took a second to catch their breath; despite his battle-worn person, Andrew's golden-brown eyes let off a smoldering glare which unsettled the butterflies in the figure's chest.

Opposite the visibly fascinated figure which stood before him, Andrew studied him. Underneath a deep green cloak emblazoned with some familiar insignia was a gangly figure, which held many small pouches and pockets on their person. At his hip, something glinted in the sun, but Andrew couldn't tell what it was exactly from where he stood. Atop a head of unkempt hair was what looked like a crown of thorns, small buds and leaves blossoming from its sharp edges. _Must be a druid_ , Andrew thought. Just as the thought came into mind, though, he caught a glimpse of the figure's elvish ears. _Or... a wizard?_ Regardless of what the figure was, Andrew stood his ground as best as he could.

"Who are you? What do you want?" He rasped, trying to keep the pain in his voice to a minimum. The elf gulped anxiously before answering.

"I just wanna help," he responded calmly. "I didn't see the fight between you and those..."

He paused and leaned to the side to view the group of dead goblins behind Andrew.

"Goblins, but I can tell they did a number on you, and that you _need_ healing."

Andrew scoffed, and took a step forward. The elf stayed put.

"I don't need your help, I'm fine. Just turn the other way and don't follow me."

_I don't need this right now_ , Andrew thought, staring down the elf. After the goblins, he wasn't risking anything, especially not when he could be easily overpowered. _They mean no harm, Andrew,_ a quieter voice spoke in the back of his head, _look at their cloak, and the symbol they carry._

_Mishakal_.

Trusting the word of his goddess, Andrew looked to the elf's green cloak; on it were crude depictions of the same sigils drawn on the bandages which were currently keeping him from bleeding out. A slight sense of ease came over Andrew as he let out a breath, and felt his legs give out from under him.

Before he could reach the ground, Andrew was caught up in the elf's slender arms, and was laid down slowly. The glow of the bandages had begun to dim, and the pain of the gash was biting into his arm once again. Through his cloudy vision, Andrew could see the elf hurriedly working the clasps of his cloak, removing it to reveal his injured arm. Blood had already begun to soak through the bandages, the heavenly sigils no longer visible past the deep red.

"Take my hand," the elf commanded, removing the gloves he wore to reveal the same crude designs as the ones on his cloak. Andrew obeyed, groaning as he fit his hand into the elf's. "Now just close your eyes and try not to move too much."

As soon as the words left the elf's mouth, that same pain as before buried its fangs even further into Andrew. Had it not been for the fatigue, he would've screamed bloody murder, but all he could muster were strained whimpers. Gritting and grinding his teeth, Andrew dug his nails into his palms, trying to follow the elf's orders as he put him through hell. After about half a minute, though, the elf was done.

The elf released his hand, and Andrew almost immediately fell into his shoulder. The elf panicked and tensed up, trying to decide between feeling scared that he may have just accidentally killed someone or feeling flustered that someone as pretty as this injured cleric had literally collapsed into his arms. Once he felt Andrew take a deep breath, though, he settled on the former.

"A-are you okay?" The elf stammered, leaning back from the man in his arms. Panting, Andrew  took a few seconds before straightening himself out and looking the elf in the eye. _You have gained their trust_ , a voice speaks in the back of the elf's head, _and they, your heart. Be wary, for one is greater than the other._ He gulped.

"The, uh, wound was poisoned," he began explaining, trying to think past the voice of Mishakal, "that's why it wouldn't... wouldn't..."

He trailed off awkwardly. _Careful_.

"Thank you," Andrew finally said; his arm now only twinged with pain, and the rest of his wounds stung significantly less. "I don't know exactly _what_ you did, but you did wonders at it."

Before he could let the cleric see his cheeks go red, the elf bolted up and held a hand out to him. With a slight smile, Andrew took it, and the elf hoisted him up to his feet.

"It was nothing," the elf let out in a breath, which Andrew didn't hear. The two dusted themselves off, the cleric retrieving his now dusty cloak from the ground beneath them. He scowled at the thing, now stained with blood and dirt, before slinging it over his shoulder.

"Hey," Andrew called out to the elf, who was readjusting his glove, "what's your name?"

"My name is, um, Sageun. Sageun Watts."

"And where are you headed, Sageun?"

Mishakal's words echoed in Sageun's mind. He clenched his fists and bit his tongue in hesitation, but eventually fell into his own instincts. _I'll be careful_ , he thought, _I promise_.

"Phandalin. How about you...?"

"Andrew. Andrew Siwicki," he responded, filling in the pause left by Sageun. "And I guess you and me are headed the same way then."

A soft smile graced his lips, almost as if he wasn't near death just minutes ago. Despite this, Sageun couldn't help but smile, and despite the warnings of his all-knowing goddess, he let his heart flutter.

And with that, the Druid and the Cleric stepped over the sunlit bodies which lay at their feet, and continued down the packed dirt path to the town of Phandalin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys walk towards their destination; Andrew struggles to strike up a conversation, and Sageun is having a bit of a crisis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY!! uh this kinda sucks just a quick disclaimer..... i don't like how i did the dialogue, and it just sounds bad but..here it is!!

Andrew had been taught to never harbor hate against anything, no matter how inconvenient or cruel it may be. As of now, though, he found it nearly impossible not to harbor any hate towards the terribly awkward silence between him and Sageun.

They had been walking for about an hour now, and in that hour, not a word has been said between the both of them. _Silence may be golden,_ Andrew thought, passing a quick glance at Sageun, _but gold can be heavy as all hell._ The elf looked like he was enjoying himself, smiling softly at the quiet rhythm of the forest: the buzz of insects, the crackle of the fallen leaves beneath their feet, the sound of the wind blowing through the vast woods, all of it a pleasant lullaby to Sageun. _Would he even pay me any mind if I did try to talk to him?_ Andrew wondered, looking to the elf's calm visage. He sighed quietly and turned his eyes forward, trying to think of something to break through this golden barrier.

As Andrew struggled with the weight of this silence, though, Sageun struggled with the weight of something else: his own rampant thoughts. Walking down the packed dirt path to Phandalin, Sageun had been going back and forth with his thoughts, trying to focus on one idea at a time. From the teachings of his dwarven parents to the warning of his patron goddess, Mishakal, he couldn't keep track. _I know, I know I should be careful_ , he told himself, _but Gryffyn would say to savor this feeling! It's a once in a lifetime type of feeling, after all!_

Sageun smiled fondly at the memory of his family, of his home. He missed the lights of the fireflies in the night, the quiet and constant symphony of croaks and crickets, the wondrous nature and omnipresent decay which he grew up with. As much as he's been enjoying this forest, Saguen would always be a child of the swamp and all of its mystic distinctions.

_I can't get homesick now, though_ , he thought, passing a glance to the cleric beside him, who wore a serious gaze. His own face grew hot, a feeling he was still trying to get used to, and he quickly turned his eyes back forward. _But I can't get caught up either._

_Is that not why you left, my child?_

He slowed his step for a second to let the question sink in. _You left for experiences like these_ , Mishakal continued softly, _experiences which your elders had already been through tenfold. Because you know that you are not like them, that you can only experience things like this once._

Sageun ran her words through his mind a few times, each time passing a memory of his family and the stories he grew up listening to: bloody revolutions, illustrious cities, grand romances, all of them just as timeworn as the dwarves who told them. And that's what Sageun realized. All of these stories, these experiences, have taken lifetimes to come together, and, unlike his family, he didn't have lifetimes to live as a character in these tales.

_And that's what sets you apart_ , Mishakal remarked. _You have one life to weave your own stories. Use it wisely, and write a story greater than any other._

"Andrew," the elf finally said. "What draws you to Phandalin?"

Pulled from his own thoughts, Andrew turned to Sageun. The elf met his surprised gaze and smiled softly, something which brought great comfort to Andrew. _Guess he is just like that all the time_ , he thought before answering.

"Well, if you _must_ know," he began, "I'm meeting a friend." As uninteresting as it seemed to Andrew, Sageun seemed enchanted by the thought.

"Really? Who?" Sageun asked in response, even though Andrew was the only person he had met since leaving the swamp. _Wouldn't hurt to ask, though_ , he silently reasons with himself.

"Do you know who Ryland Adams is?"

The elf, of course, shook his head. "Is that the person you're meeting with?" He asked.

"No... well, not in Phandalin, at least," the cleric responded quickly. "I'm meeting with his husband, Shane, then going to one of his shows in Crytsallgrim City."

Sageun's ears perked at the mention of a city.

"Crystallgrim?"

Andrew nodded, and turned to him with an inquisitive look. "Have you never heard of it?"

"I've heard of cities like Neverwinter and the Kingdom of Roots," Sageun answered sheepishly, "but I don't think I've ever heard of a Crystallgrim City." Andrew laughed in disbelief.

"Neverwinter? Kingdom of Roots?" Andrew said, leaning forward to look the elf in the eyes. "Those cities have been destroyed for centuries! Have you seriously never heard of a city like Crystallgrim? Or Kepler? Or even Goldcliffe?"

Sageun blushed and looked away from Andrew's bemused gaze, shaking his head. _Are these the experiences you were talking about?_ Sageun silently asked, trying to calm the butterflies which fluttered incessantly as he tried to think up a plausible reason for his lack of knowledge.

"It's just that... uh," he let out, trying to pull together some convincing story that didn't involve his isolated and druidic upbringing, "I've never been farther than Phandalin and this forest, so I've never really heard about those other... cities."

A few seconds of heavy silence pass before Andrew sniffs and cocks his head to the side, passing a side eye to the elf and asking a question.

"Do you live in this forest, then?"

"Um, yeah, I live here," he answered awkwardly _,_ not knowing if the swamp was too deep within the wooded wetlands to even be considered apart of this forest. "A bit deep into the forest, but it's still in there!"

"Huh," the cleric sighed, "I don't think I've ever heard of there being a half elf tribe around here..."

Just as the words slipped quietly from his mouth, Andrew stopped and looked to the sky: the midday blue was beginning to fade into the evening's orange as the sun started to settle down into the autumnal foliage above them. The faraway rattle of a carriage caught the elf's attention, drawing his eyes from watercolor sky to a small wooden gateway nestled in the trees. _That must be..._

"Right on time," Andrew said, smiling as he continued with a bit more speed in his step. Sageun followed intently.

And as the two walked through the gate and into the small village of Phandalin, the sun slinking away above them, a small voice echoed in the back of Sageun's mind, relaying a message which brought him an odd sense of comfort in its vague manner: _Take your time. Your stories will convene soon enough. For now, though... just enjoy it._


End file.
